


The Magic 8 Ball

by pet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, F/M, Fluff, Goofy!Draco, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Muggle toys, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28250835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pet/pseuds/pet
Summary: While going through her childhood home with her boyfriend, Hermione and Draco come upon a fortune telling Muggle toy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	The Magic 8 Ball

**Author's Note:**

> This little plot bunny came to me when I was playing with my youngest child. He kept asking the ball the most absurd questions and I just thought, "Imagine what would happen if Draco Malfoy came upon this toy?" Since it's a bit of fluff, he has a bit of a good time with it. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to holtzbert4life for doing a bit of Brit picking and having a looksee for me. ALL remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Hermione sat on her bedroom floor, carefully going through the toybox she hadn’t opened since before she left for Hogwarts. Toys and plushes lined the floor beside her, divided into three unique piles: keep, donate, bin. In the keep pile lay mementos from her youth and favorites she couldn’t live without lay. Her eyes fell upon a small, pink rabbit that she’d had as long as she could remember and tears began to fall.

“Hey, love. It’ll be alright.”

Being in her bedroom with Draco Malfoy turned out to be a lot less exotic than once thought. She imagined bringing him with her to meet her parents after she’d returned their memories, stealing him away for a few fun moments in her childhood bed, but it wasn’t to be. The couple now known as Monica and Wendel Wilkins lived a new life with new friends in Australia…with their new daughter. Hermione blamed herself, of course. She’d waited an additional year and a half after the end of the war before going to find them. Rogue Death Eaters haunted the country still, and she needed to be certain her parents were safe. During that extra time, Hermione unknowingly became a big sister. They were established. They were happy. She couldn’t take that from them.

“I know, Draco,” she responded, “but it still hurts sometimes.”

Back into the toybox. More items added to the “bin” and “donate” piles. As she pulled a particularly large plush bear from the bottom of the box, a black ball with a white circle on one end rolled out and settled. Within the circle was a black number 8.

“What’s this?” Draco asked.

Hermione looked over and chucked. “A Magic 8 Ball.”

“A what?”

“It’s called a Magic 8 Ball. It’s a muggle fortune telling toy. They’re popular over in America. My parents picked it up for me while they were away at a dental conference in Boston. Thought it was funny with my being a witch and all.”

Draco rolled the sphere between his hands for a couple seconds before exposing the clear plastic bottom. Emerging from within the indigo tinted water came a simple message: “MY REPLY IS NO.”

He looked up at her. “How does this work?”

“You’re supposed to ask it a yes or no question while shaking it about a bit. Then you turn it over and get your answer.” She took the ball from him, shook it gently, and asked, “Is Draco Malfoy a prat?”

The 8 Ball responded: “DON’T COUNT ON IT.”

“HA!” Draco exclaimed. “I like this thing! Give it here, love. I want a go.” He shook it. “Is Ron Weasley a git?”

“BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW.”

Hermione laughed and took the ball back from him. When she placed it upon the “donate” pile, Draco took it back.

“You’re not really getting rid of this, are you?”

“Why? Do you want it?”

“Hell yes! This thing is hilarious! In fact, maybe I’ll make a day of it. We can call it: ‘Draco’s Muggle Awareness Day’ or something equally absurd. It’ll be fun!”

“Whatever,” she responded with a half sigh, half laugh. “Just don’t get yourself in trouble at work.”

“I’ll use it tomorrow. I‘m off work, so it’ll be safe.”

Hermione doubted it.

-_-_-_-_-

She woke to the sweet smell of cinnamon mixed with the smokey scent that accompanies slightly overcooked bacon. Rolling to her right, she noticed that Draco was not in bed with her. She threw back the covers, slipped her feet into her well-worn slippers, and shrugged on her robe after using the loo. Then she shuffled down the stairs and found her way to the kitchen.

“Who are you and what have you done to Draco?” she asked the man at the stove.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. You think you’re so funny, do you?” Draco replied.

She raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek before turning her attention to the stove. “What’s all this, then?”

“I asked the Black Ball if I should make you breakfast and it said “YES,” so I did. You’re welcome.”

“8 Ball.”

“Huh?”

“It’s called a Magic 8 Ball. Billiards. I know you have a pool table somewhere within that manse you call a childhood home. You’ve got to! It would be a shame otherwise.”

He nodded. “Father keeps one. Likes to play with mum. I don’t use it at all, though.” He shuddered.

“Why not?”

“Walked in on him behind mum, if you catch my meaning. Turned me off the game.”

Hermione laughed.

“Should I make Hermione coffee?” He shook the ball. “IT IS DECIDEDLY SO.”

“So it is.”

Draco brewed the coffee while Hermione sat by and watched. Her mind replayed their relationship while he tended the eggs and pulled out the milk and sugar. He’d been a right prick in school, but after the war, after she’d spoken for him at his trial, and after spending that summer cleaning and rebuilding Hogwarts, they’d become friends. Then school began again and the two found themselves back at Hogwarts but as students. Every class saw them seated side by side, working on projects, doing assignments, and studying. She sat by him at lunch, even though the tables still separated the Houses. She didn’t care, and he began to love her for it…or so he told her after they both sat, and crushed, their N.E.W.T.’s. Then they both accepted positions within the ministry, he as an Auror and she within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They lunched together. They supped together. When she’d booked her flights to Australia over the Christmas hols, she invited him to accompany her. He held her while she cried upon discovering the family that was hers yet shatteringly wasn’t.

He asked her to move in with him on the flight back to England.

“Is Hermione thinking of me? Huh… ‘WITHOUT A DOUBT,’ says the ball… And you’d better be with that soppy look on your face.”

She smiled as he placed her breakfast before her. They ate in companionable silence, neither one ready to discuss the future of Hermione’s childhood home. They’d cleaned out the majority of it the day before, relying heavily on magic, but the reality that neither wanted to admit was deciding what to do with it. The house held so many memories, and the propery held a great financial worth. It would sell quickly, if that was what she decided.

“I was thinking we could go into Diagon Alley today and do some window shopping,” Hermione suggested.

Draco immediately picked up the 8 Ball.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Asking the 8 Ball, of course! I told you yesterday that this was happening. Should we go to Diagon Alley today?” He shook the ball. “BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW.” He shrugged. “Maybe we’ll ask again later.”

“You’re absurd. What should we do in the meantime?”

He wagged his eyebrows and stood slowly, stalking her from around the table. She quickly slid from her chair and took off through the living room to the stairs, climbing them two at a time with him hot on her heels. When they reached the bedroom, he kicked the door shut and ravaged her, both enjoying the capture as much as the hunt.

-_-_-_-_-

“You brought that to bed with you?”

They’d spent an hour and a half making each other moan and scream, and yet Draco apparently couldn’t be parted from the Magic 8 Ball. He pulled it from the table beside him and held it above his head.

“If that falls on your face, I swear I’m going to laugh so hard that I might snort a bit.”

He scoffed. “As if a Malfoy would drop something on their own face. Should we go to Diagon Alley now? ‘IT IS DECIDEDLY SO.’”

“So, I guess that means I should get a shower.” She pulled herself from his arms and stood, feeling their combined release slipping from inside of her.

“Should I join Hermione in the shower?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“CONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN.” He chuckled and watched her walk into their bathroom. “I guess it is hard to concentrate with you prancing around my room starkers.”

She grinned saucily. “I thought it was OUR room?”

He laughed and let her bathe, choosing instead to utilize the bathroom down the hall. Ten minutes later found them both clean and getting dressed, putting on socks and shoes before leaving their flat via floo. They arrived at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes just as Fred and George were kissing their wives goodbye.

“Oi! No need to see that!” Draco mockingly exclaimed.

Fred laughed. “Well, no one said you needed to look, Malfoy.”

“Not getting enough affection at home?” George continued.

Hermione came to the defence. “Leave off, you two. He’s very well taken care of.” She embraced Angelina and Katie before they floo’d away. “We were just heading out to browse. Anything new in here we ought to see?”

Draco pulled the 8 Ball from his pocket while the twins were regaling Hermione with their most recent products. “Should I invest in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” he asked. “OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD.” He furrowed his brow, wondering why it wouldn’t be a good idea, but then thought of another question. “Should we invite the ginger twins to lunch? ‘YOU MAY RELY ON IT.’ It’s settled.”

Fred Weasley held his hands to his brother’s head, speaking animatedly in Hermione’s direction as Draco approached. The door from the office out into the store stood slightly ajar. Draco moved around to look out at the customers while George laughed at whatever his brother was doing to him. Turning from the excited squeals of youngsters, Draco moved next to Hermione, spying what appeared to be an oddly yellow Extendable Ear secured to the side of George’s face.

“And it’s just like new, see?” Fred beamed. “Been working on it for months and I think we’ve finally gotten it!”

“Prosthetics! Who’d have known! This is brilliant, guys!” Hermione’s enthusiasm was catching, even if Draco still wasn’t certain what exactly he was looking at.

George took pity on him. “See, Malfoy, this scar here? Courtesy of our illustrious Professor Snape. Still not sure he wasn’t aiming for me, but his curse took my ear off. Magic can’t fix it, yeah? So we decided to see if we could adapt our Extendable Ears a bit.”

“Took a fair bit of magic,” Fred added.

“And a fair few headaches,” George rejoined.”

“But I think we’ve finally gotten it!”

Hermione laughed in delight. “All but that horrid color! I’m so proud of you! Think of all the possibilities! St. Mungo’s will be beside themselves to get ahold of this!”

Draco turned to the 8 Ball again. “Are you sure I shouldn’t invest in this company?” He shook the sphere. “CANNOT PREDICT NOW.” He shrugged his shoulders and invited the twins to lunch with them, George leaving the store with the bright yellow ear intact.

Lunch was a lively affair, as were all things involving the Weasley family. They opted for a more laid-back affair at The Leaky Cauldron and everyone ordered the fish and chips with butterbeer. Laughter rang out at random times as they mercilessly teased each other, but mostly George with his one yellow ear. When the plates cleared, Hermione announced her desire for some ice cream.

“Should we have ice cream?”

George noticed the black ball Draco shook in his hands. “What’s that?”

“S’called a Magic 8 Ball. Found it in Hermione’s bedroom. It’s a Muggle toy that can predict the future.”

Hermione scoffed. “It’s rubbish is what it is. I’ve no idea why he carries it around, but it’s harmless. And it doesn’t predict the future. It’s got a multisided die inside of a well of darkly colored water. When you shake it, just like with any die, a random side will land on top. There’s no Divination involved.”

“Rubbish, indeed,” Draco scoffed. “I’ll prove it’s amazing. Watch. Does Hermione love me?” He shook the ball and read the answer. “CANNOT PREDICT NOW.”

“Too right,” chuckled Hermione. “You keep playing with that thing and I might have to pack my bags!”

“You wouldn’t!” Draco didn’t look at all concerned, but instead feigned shock.

She laughed and gave him a playful shove, causing him to bump into Fred. The twins threw down a couple Galleons to pay for lunch, but she and Draco both protested.

George would hear none of it. “You lot bought last time. Our treat today.”

They said their goodbye’s outside of the Weasley’s shop, Fred and George heading inside while Draco and Hermione took to the street to shop. They wandered for a bit, content to gaze at the window displays. Occasionally, Draco would consult the ball.

Should they purchase new stationary? “VERY DOUBTFUL.”

Does he need a new cauldron? “ASK AGAIN LATER.”

A new Cleansweep? “REPLY HAZY TRY AGAIN.” So, he did… “MY REPLY IS NO.”

“Honestly, Draco. How many racing brooms does one need, anyway?”

Outside of Flourish and Blotts, Draco made to take the ball between his hands again.

Hermione stopped him. “If you’re going to ask if I should buy books, the answer is always, ‘yes.’” She opened the door and went inside.

Not one to be deterred, he asked anyway. “Should I buy her books?” He read the response of “BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW” and groaned. This would be an expensive stop, then. Knowing she would be a while, he instead turned his attention to the other shops in the alley. Knockturn Alley sat three buildings down to his left, but the shops now catered to a different crowd. Witches and wizards with Muggle heritage frequented these shops, a mix of newsstands, cosmetics shops, and modern clothing. His father had publicly protested the addition of these more plebian establishments and privately extolled their virtues.

The man was a contradiction.

Down the block a bit more was a new spa. “Should I get a couples spa day for Hermione and I?” The response of “SIGNS POINT TO YES” made Draco smile. He stood from the bench next to the entrance of the book shop and walked the fifty yards to the spa. Once inside, he purchased a day of pampering for two. With that accomplished, a thought sprang to mind. He shook the ball. “YOU MAY RELY ON IT.”

Twenty minutes later Hermione emerged from Flourish and Blotts with nary a book in hand.

“Could it be true?” Draco asked. “Did Hermione Granger actually escape a bookstore without a single purchase?”

She laughed. “You know me better than that.”

“You’re saying there will be a parcel later?”

Nodding, she took his arm and led him away toward the cobbler. He’d been complaining about needing a new pair of shoes, and she wouldn’t say no to another pair either. Aside from books, shoes were her vice. While she loved the Muggle designers, she found their magical counterparts to be more worth the galleons, with their inlaid cushioning charms which made even the highest stilettos as comfortable as trainers. She paused at the door, noticing Draco had stopped two paces behind her. “Oh, give me a break.”

“Should I buy shoes today?” he asked, giving the ball a shake. “DON’T COUNT ON IT.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. They spent a half hour inside, Hermione trying on many pairs while Draco sat and stared longingly as the men’s offerings on the far wall. There were many pairs he desired and yet he’d vowed to listen to the Magic 8 Ball for the day. He’d owl tomorrow to acquire the shoes he wanted. They left knowing that a parcel of shoes would arrive later in the week for Hermione.

With their shopping done in Diagon Alley, they ventured through The Leaky Cauldron out into Muggle London. The wizarding street was great for wares and goods, but when it came to food for the home, the couple preferred Muggle grocers.

Draco pulled the ball again. “Should we stop at Morrisons or Tesco?”

“Really?” she squawked.

“What?”

Hermione sighed. “They have to be yes or no questions. That bit of plastic, water, and dye doesn’t know the difference between supermarkets.”

He huffed. “Fine. Should we shop at Morrisons today?” They gazed at the ball together as it revealed it’s answer: “MY SOURCES SAY NO.”

“Tesco it is,” said Draco.

“Tesco it is,” Hermione confirmed.

Mercifully, Draco didn’t consult his new toy at all on the walk to the supermarket, nor did he use it while choosing groceries. They spent a companiable forty-five minutes loading up a cart and making their purchases for the week before pushing the carriage into the alley next to the store, shrinking their items, and apparating home. Draco placed his bags on the kitchen counter and immediately pulled the ball back out.

“Should we have take-away for dinner? ‘ASK AGAIN LATER.’ Well, then let’s put these away and I’ll ask again!” A few minutes later he received his answer: “MY SOURCES SAY NO.”

Hermione laughed.

“This thing has turned negative all of a sudden. This morning it was much more amenable.”

She laughed harder.

“Honestly! All I’ve gotten since –“ He cut off abruptly.

“Since when?” she enquired.

“Since lunch with the ginger twins. I asked then if we should have lunch with them and it said yes.”

She looked skeptical. “Nothing else?”

His reply was negative, but she noted that he didn’t quite meet her eyes. Curious. He was hiding something.

Draco shook the ball again. “Should we have take-away for dinner tonight? ‘MY SOURCES SAY NO.’” He shook it again and again, hoping for a different result. “OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD. DON’T COUNT ON IT. CANNOT PREDICT NOW. ASK AGAIN LATER.” He groaned. “What’s with the bubbles?”

She snorted. “You’ve been shaking the hell out of it! What else did you expect?” She took the ball from him. “Now, where do you want to order from?”

-_-_-_-_-

They fed each other bits of fried food from a pub down the street and then fell into bed after cleaning up. A few hours of worshiping each other led to hours of sleep. As the sun rose on a lazy Sunday morning, Draco crawled out of bed to greet the owl with the newspapers, both magical and muggle. Investments worked in both worlds, and he’d long ago learned that money was money. He often rose before Hermione on Sunday’s, yet this day was different.

After his day with the Magic 8 Ball, he’d made a few decisions, not the least of which was that the toy was rubbish at predictions, though still rather enjoyable. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill, penning a letter to Fred and George Weasley about the toy, as well as his astonishment at the innovative appeal of their products. A hefty sum was offered toward their medical inventions with the proviso that they needed to create some sort of Magic 8 Ball for the magical children. He sent the owl off before heading to the floo to contact Hermione’s favorite restaurant. He had a date to set, and some transfiguration to do.

An hour later, Hermione emerged from the shower to find Draco dressed for a day of relaxation. “Good morning, love. Already finished with the papers?”

He smiled up at her from his spot at the kitchen table, papers folded in front of him and coffee brewing on the counter. “For now. I have other plans today.”

“Oh?”

“Put on something comfortable. We’re heading to Venus and Aphrodite.”

“But aren’t they closed on Sunday?”

He stared at her for a full minute before her mind caught up, but she squealed a bit, kissing him long and deep and running off to change from her housecoat into joggers and a tee. They floo’d directly to the spa, finding a small team of men and women waiting for them. They spent the morning with a bit of time in the hot tub followed by a couples massage. Lunch was brought in from The Leaky Cauldron: sandwiches and chips with frozen butterbeer. After lunch, they got manicures and pedicures together before Draco excused himself while Hermione had her hair and makeup attended to. When he reappeared, he was dressed in formal robes and carried a garment bag.

“What’s all this?”

“We’re having dinner.”

She took the bag and stepped into a private room to dress. The gown was stunning. The neckline sat just below her collar bones, short sleeves hugging her biceps. The bodice held her curves, fading from deep navy blue at the top of silver at the hem, falling just above her knees in the front and just below in the back. The skirt flared slightly, giving it the appearance of a modified mermaid style. She moved to transfigure her shoes into something more appropriate when a knock came, followed by a hand shoving a shoebox in her direction. The familiar scrawl “Louboutin” graced the brown box, hiding a pair of simple nude pumps within. She slipped them on, checked her appearance in the mirrors, and walked out to Draco.

He took her hand in his and walked out with her, taking a moment to thank the staff at the spa. They walked across Diagon Alley to the apparition point where Draco pulled her close and apparated them to dinner.

Gusteau’s lay nestled between two large thoroughfares in downtown Paris. While many knew this restaurant in the muggle world, it held a magical side that catered to wizarding elite. It was also where Draco had taken Hermione on their first date, back before he realized that she was just as happy with fish and chips. He walked them to the maitre’d and spoke in perfect French, announcing their arrival and reservation time. They were seated almost immediately and presented with the wine list. Draco chose a semi-sweet red to start, approving of the vintage when presented with a sample. The wine filled their goblets and the waiter left them to ponder the menu.

“I was going to wait until dessert to do this,” Draco began, “but you know how much I hate waiting.”

Hermione smiled at him, nodding in agreement at his assessment. Her smile turned into an exasperated frown when he pulled the Magic 8 Ball from inside of his robes. She was about to call him on his absurdity when he brought the ball in front of him, shook it and whispered softly.

“Will Hermione marry me? ‘REPLY HAZY TRY AGAIN.’” He turned the 8 Ball around and popped it open, revealing a half carat solitaire princess cut diamond set in platinum. He spoke louder. “Will you marry me, Hermione?”

“Yes.”


End file.
